


Seth Finds His Place

by orphan_account



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Come Eating, Finger Sucking, First Time, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6609409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy Birthday, SubwayWolf!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seth Finds His Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SubwayWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/gifts).



Seth Grayson taps his fingers against the manilla folder marked ‘Executive Clearance’, the talking points for the most important press conference in his career, thus far. He’s been up over 36 hours, crafting and honing the words for President Underwood to speak, busting his hump not only for professionalism but in the faint hope that Underwood look at him with those scary-intense eyes, eyes that can sparkle with intelligence and good humor or throw thunderbolts that make Seth’s cheeks burn and his scrotum to crawl, his balls retreating for safety.

Seth sees how the President’s hand lingers on Doug’s shoulder, how his eyes travel up and down Edward’s lanky-muscular frame…Edward, who is the allowed the privilege of whispering into the President’s ear. Jokes, Seth guesses, though it seems impossible that quiet Edward has wit enough to leave Underwood quaking with laughter. It’s enough to make his blood boil.

The door to the small room just off the Oval Office, the Presidential inner sanctum, is open, just a crack, spilling light onto the carpet where Seth stands. He’s never been invited inside, not like Doug, especially not like Edward, who remains practically glued to Underwood’s side. I’ll bet they do it in there, Seth glowers, trying to rearrange his face into something more neutral, more obsequious – as fits his hard won, sometimes tenuous position in the White House.

He knocks at the door, leaning in to hear if he’s beckoned. He’s not, though there are rustling sounds, a ping of a laptop, too. He takes a deep breath and steps inside.

Underwood’s there all right, sitting in the comfortable love seat near the tiny fireplace across from his desk, sitting with a laptop perched on his knees, watching porn.

Porn?

Seth’s mind boggles – if anyone doesn’t need porn, it would be Underwood, with his achingly beautiful Claire and the constant manly attentions of Doug and Edward. And Underwood isn’t just watching. No, his flies are open, perhaps not seeing Seth, perhaps putting on a bit of a show to tease him or maybe Underwood’s so confident in his status of the world’s top dog that he can jerk off all he wants, in front of whomever and not feel embarrassment or chagrin.

“Seth?”

Seth steps forward, blinking hard, his heart beating like a hummingbird. “Here, Sir,” he chokes, waving the folder rather spastically. Underwood’s right hand slows but doesn’t stop, travelling up and down his thick shaft, a twist of his dark red foreskin a lazy flourish before starting again, the laptop porn forgotten as he stares hard at Seth.

“My notes for tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, Sir. We’ll put the Republicans right back where they belong,” Seth replies with desperate bravado.

“You _must_ be tired,” Underwood says, his South Carolina drawl working overtime, his consonants and vowels dripping with honey and peach juice as he smiles at Seth, all dimples and sunshine. “Come have a seat and rest a minute,” he adds, patting the seat beside him.

Seth’s feet answer before his brain can, practically stumbling towards the President, barely aware of the way his dick is stiffening with every step.

“Do you like to watch?” asks Underwood as he pushes the tails of his shirt aside, hitching up his tight white t-shirt so that everything, well – almost everything, is neatly on display.

Seth nods, shutting the laptop’s lid before he slides down to his knees, resting his elbows on Underwood’s knees, his hands making random patterns against the tops of Underwood’s thighs.

“Yes. Yes, I…I love to watch, Sir,” he proclaims nervously, not knowing if this is the correct answer, the one Underwood wants.

“Well, isn’t this a treat!” Underwood’s smile is genuine and sweet, leaving Seth dizzy until he remembers to keep breathing. The President reaches down, with the hand that’s wet with pre-come, pushing back the dark forelock of hair that constantly spills over Seth’s forehead regardless of how much product he uses to keep it in place. Seth doesn’t mind the damp sensation and when his mouth falls open, Underwood traces his forefingers across Seth’s lips until they shine.

Seth moans, he can’t help it, and Underwood must have a lot of experience, of course he does, because he knows just what to do next, placing two fingers flat against the tip of Seth’s tongue.

“Suck on that, will you?” Seth could suck harder, imagining that it’s the President’s dick, though he’s never done this before; he’s never even kissed a man. But it feels so natural. Naughty, yes, but perfect as he savors the faintly musky salt on Underwood’s calloused fingers.

“That’s enough,” chokes Underwood, his dick straining harder than before, practically throbbing as more slick oozes from the tip. Now wet from Seth’s mouth, Underwood’s hand goes back to business, caressing dark veins and the little knob of nerves just below the head of his dick.

“You just watch now, honey,” he tells Seth. “You just watch Daddy put on a show.”

Seth comes when Underwood does, in his pants – not even touching himself. Shame washes over him but Underwood just chuckles, ruffling Seth’s hair again, harder this time until his hand is clean of come. It starts to dry, immediately, chunks of hair poking stiffly askew and Seth, who is all about neat and tidy presentation, doesn’t mind.

“Can…can I clean you off, Sir?” he asks. “With my mouth?”

“You just go right on,” Underwood replies with a contented sigh, both fully aware of the gift he’s bestowing. Licking the President’s balls clean of droplets that taste of sour and salt, Seth feels profoundly grateful, like he's finally found where he belongs.


End file.
